The Knitting of the Socks

This poem appeared in Vanity Fair in 1861

The winter is upon us - we have passed the equinox

Call the wives and maids and widows to the Knitting of the Socks

By the Potomac river the wind is blowing cold;

The frost-nip rusts the maple and dims the marigold:

And on the Missouri's borders are waving to and fro

The pine-trees and the dry reeds that beckon to the snow:

And the sea-board is rebounding in the surging of the main,

As the fog-bells and the light-ships ring and rock in the hurricane.

Oh! A voice comes through the tempest, ringing clear like a crystal bell-

"Alls well!" adown the wind-gust, from the pacing sentinel:

And in the lull of the night-blast between the swirls of sleet,

Comes the "stamp stamp" of the sentinel, for cold, cold are his feet.

Fifty thousand maids and matrons, and widows a hundred score

Up, up! And ply the needles, let our soldiers freeze no more!

And sweet music to your hearts will steal, as each pacing sentinel

Feels the sentiment he utters in his baritone "Alls well!"

Ho! Buxom wife, and widows, and maid with the glossy locks,

Draw round the loyal hearth stone to the Knitting of the Socks!"

You too can knit socks for the soldiers with cold feet. Warm the Troops Your grandma did it!

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